


Out of the Darkness

by Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2020 (Part One!) [4]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Building Collapse, Explosions, Gen, Hard of Hearing Fun Ghoul (Danger Days), Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Fun Ghoul (Danger Days), Nonbinary Jet Star (Danger Days), Nonbinary Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Semiverbal Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth/pseuds/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth
Summary: Trapped in a building with a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/, Fun Ghoul has to go down with the ship.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2020 (Part One!) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767937
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	Out of the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> For any ASL speakers reading this, I’m sorry for my signing grammar, I’ve read several online guides and I still have a lot of trouble understanding the grammatical conventions, and I’m trying! I’m getting there :)

The radio crackles, screeches, and dies as Fun Ghoul tries desperately to shake it into functioning. Cursing, they toss it away, watching it bounce off one of the bare concrete walls and skitter to a stop. It had been on its last leg for a while now, and of course it would kick the bucket now, when they needed to be in communication with the others. But Ghoul doesn’t dwell on it for long. They have a job to do, and they’ll just have to hope the others don’t need to contact them. Humming under their breath, they return to wiring together the network of bombs they’ve hidden in the most intact room of this unfinished building. A S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ and it’s Draculoid contingent have been camping out here for the past week or so, riding out into the desert during the day, using the base to get further into the Zones than most are capable of. Ghoul is setting up a remote detonation to take them out, while the rest of their crew stalls the patrol in a clap. They can only hope they finish setting the trap in time. 

Unbeknownst to Ghoul, the clap is already over, Party Poison frantically dialing Ghoul’s dead frequency while Kobra drags Jet, unconscious, to the trans am. 

Ghoul doesn’t hear the Dracs come in, but they do notice them with enough time to hide, crouching inside a length of massive concrete piping, clutching the detonator in shaking hands. The Dracs shuffle into the room, their S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ following close behind, limping with a blaster wound in its knee. Ghoul grins despite themself; their family had at least made the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ suffer. 

And then the Dracs spot the radio.   
“A radio?”  
“What’s this?”  
“A radio, I just said.”  
“What’s to be done?”  
“Protocol: alert higher-ups to suspicious paraphernalia.”  
“Engage.” The S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ rolls its eyes, limps over to the gaggle of Dracs and snatched the radio off the ground as they babble.   
“Search the room. We’re not alone.”  
“Yes sir.”  
“Search the room for what?”  
“Killjoys.”  
“Ah.”

Inside the length of pipe, Fun Ghoul curls around the detonator. They’re not going to be able to fight off so many Dracs and a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ all on their own, nor can they run fast enough to escape. Their only option is to blow the place up while still inside, and Ghoul designed the trap to be lethal. They offer up one last prayer to the Witch— they sign it rather than say it, more out of habit than fear of being heard— and jam both thumbs onto the detonation button as hard as they can. The building explodes. 

Poison’s still trying to radio Ghoul with one hand as they drive, more reckless than usual, berating them under their breath.   
“Of course their radio’s off, fucking absent-minded fool if they get fucking ghosted it’s their own damn fault I’m gonna be so pissed when we get to them they’re not even—“  
“Poison. Cool it”, comes Jet’s voice from the back, where eir lying on the seat, Kobra’s sunglasses covering eir face  
“Shit. Sorry, Jet.”  
“‘S fine, just keep quiet ‘f ya can.”  
“Will do!” They catch themself, whisper, “shoot, sorry.” Kobra chuckles, watching the exchange, before returning to sticking twice as many bandaids as necessary to Jet Star’s wounds. 

The trans am screeches to a stop near the wreckage of the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/‘s hideout, and Poison and Kobra get out, blasters drawn.   
“Let’s just grab Ghoul quick, no need to draw fire if any of them are still running. Where’s the rendezvous point at?” Kobra gestures to an adjacent building, and Poison follows him, keeping an eye on Jet and the am. 

The rendezvous building is empty of both enemies and Ghoul. Kobra checks through the building thrice over, each time coming up empty. Meanwhile, Poison’s pacing back and forth at the doorway, fingers drumming erratically on the barrel of their blaster. When ten minutes pass and Ghoul hasn’t shown up, Poison stalks back to the trans am without a word, Kobra hurrying to keep up.   
“What now?” Kobra signs, tense.   
“Fuck if I know. Probably forgot about meeting us here, idiot’s likely halfway to the diner by now, I’ve half a mind to up and leave now, let them walk back to the diner.” Kobra tucks their blaster back into its holster to free their hands for signing,  
“Poison. Calm.”  
“...Sorry.”  
“We wait here. Meanwhile, search for Draculoids.” Poison nods, and the two of them head to the bombed-out building, shooting the bodies of any Dracs they come across, to ensure they’re dead. Poison finds the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/, still breathing, impaled through the torso on a metal bar, and they dispatch it quickly, not eager to see even their enemy suffer. As they jam a fresh battery into their blaster, Kobra screams. Poison whirls around, dropping the battery as they level their (useless) blaster towards whatever made their brother scream. Kobra’s kneeling amongst the wreckage, scrabbling at a pile of concrete with shaking hands. Tripping over rubble, Poison joins them at the pile of concrete. At the pile of concrete pinning Fun Ghoul’s crumpled body to the ground.

Fun Ghoul’s arms are up covering their head, so the Venom Brothers can’t see if they’re awake or not, but Ghoul’s ragged breathing is telling.   
“Fun Ghoul? Ghoulie, can ya hear me?” No response.   
“Fuck! Ghoul!” Kobra reaches down, gently touches a finger to the least-buried part of Ghoul’s arm. They don’t respond. Kobra tries again, firmer. After the third time, Kobra returns to dragging away the pieces of concrete, or trying to. Poison joins them, helping them haul away a massive chunk of concrete. When it slides off the pile, Fun Ghoul screams, jostled by the movement. Poison panics, dropping the concrete, nearly crushing Kobra’s fingers. Fun Ghoul screams again, further crushed by the sudden return of pressure. Poison curses, reaching out for Ghoul, but Kobra pulls them back, shaking their head. Poison nods, and returns to removing the concrete. 

In the meantime, Jet Star’s heard the screams and stumbled out of the backseat of the am, barely pushing through eir head injury. Ey come upon the rest of eir crew, and understand the situation before anyone notices eir presence, joining the Venom Brothers, pulling the smaller chunks of rubble away from Ghoul.

Gradually, they make progress, both in clearing away the concrete and in getting Ghoul to respond, albeit dazed and in pain. Kobra’s the first to reach them, sliding into the crater beside Fun Ghoul, hands fluttering anxiously over their body, tapping gently like a question. Ghoul groans at the contact, and Kobra gently tugs their arms from around their head, allowing Ghoul the option of pulling back if they want to, but Ghoul is passive, their face blank and eyes open, staring at nothing. Poison curses and Kobra jumps; they hadn’t noticed him come up behind them. Together, they pull Fun Ghoul up and carry them over uneven ground to the car, Jet following behind them. They stumble often, and Ghoul flinches each time, but doesn’t respond to words or touches. Placing them in the car, they slump against the window unblinking, and don’t move the whole way back to the diner.

Kobra wonders how many times he’s carried his teammates or been carried himself, wounded or worse, over the threshold of the diner. He wonders how many more times they’ll be lucky enough to have to. 

He and Poison set Ghoul down on a table in the diner and set to work assessing them for injuries. They’re bruised and bloody, but not physically hurt beyond the superficial, nor do they show signs of a concussion. So they lay Ghoul down on the mattress in the back room beside Jet, curtains drawn tight to block the sun. 

“What do you think’s wrong with them?” Poison and Kobra return to the old dining room, sticking close to each other, unsure of how to proceed from here. Kobra pauses a moment, hands making indistinct shapes as they consider, before simply gesturing to their head and shrugging.

Ghoul sleeps through the next day, and is up the day after, crashing irritably around the kitchen like they’re hungover, ignoring all attempts to talk to them. They take their can of power pup and retreat with it to the back room. The other three exchange concerned glances, and Poison silently volunteers themself to follow Ghoul to the back room.   
“Hey.” Ghoul’s sitting on the floor, food untouched. They turn away from Poison, who sits down beside them and waits. They speak eventually, after Ghoul’s shoulders lose their tension more from exhaustion than relaxation.   
“You okay?” Poison signs as they speak, but Ghoul’s looking away, and Poison can see their hearing aids discarded on the side table. They keep talking anyways, hoping Ghoul will turn to face them eventually.   
“Shit, did I ever tell you about the time me an’ Jet got lost out in the Witch’s Garden overnight? Most ridiculous night of my life, I swear. Jet kept trying to navigate by the stars...” As Poison talks, Ghoul relaxes slightly, little by little, until they’re leaning against Poison, still facing away, but there. Carefully, Poison slides an arm around Ghoul, and Ghoul grabs onto them and holds them tight. Poison’s heart breaks, but they don’t let it show. By the time they’ve finished their second story, Ghoul’s entirely in their lap, trembling slightly, and hunched to half their size. Poison doesn’t acknowledge any of it, just keeps staring at the wall and telling meaningless stories, voice just loud enough that Ghoul might hear if they listen, but neither of them care about what Poison’s saying. 

Poison talks for hours, and when their voice goes hoarse, Jet Star takes over, sliding quietly into the room and settling down beside them. Kobra comes in not long after, bringing the radio for when Jet’s done talking. And together, the four of them sit vigil, as they’ve done so many times before for each other. And as they’ll do so many more times. A day into the future, and things begin to return to normal. A week into the future, and it’s as if nothing ever happened. Two weeks, and Fun Ghoul wakes up screaming, tearing gashes in their arms to convince themself their dreams aren’t real. And it’s Kobra’s arms they take shelter in. Another month, and the deed is repaid. Fun Ghoul never talks about why they reacted so, and they don’t have to. With the Fabulous Killjoys, not much is left unsaid, and secrets are sacred. No matter what, though, Fun Ghoul trusts their crew with their life and they know the others feel the same.

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it! Leave a comment if you would be so kind, and have a great day!  
> I’m on tumblr @wishiwasthemoon-tonight, come request a prompt for the bingo, or just yell at me.


End file.
